


Drabbles and Prompts

by RebAngel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BMol - Freeform, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Coffee, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Episode Tag, Episode: s12e08 LOTUS, Episode: s13e05 Advanced Thanatology, First Kiss, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Morning After, One Word Prompts, Prompt Fic, Reunions, Wordcount: 100-500, Writer's Block
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-03-31 02:17:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13965216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebAngel/pseuds/RebAngel
Summary: This is what it is. Just random Dean/Cas drabbles. I'm fighting the writer's block the best I can... They might be with an episode tag. So, beware of spoilers.





	1. Angel

For DeanCasPie

Word of the day: angel

 

Tag to 12x08 **Lotus**

* * *

 "You, Halo." He calls at Cas, chin slightly up and brow frowned in disgust. His body language screams for superiority. He measures the angel from head to toe, "Did you sense I'm lying?"

 _What a douchebag_ , Dean can't help but thinking. Everything in this man is so hideous. His fancy suit and his hair and the way he's talking to them like they are just a bunch of ignorant kids. Like they should be grateful. Or afraid.

Cas gives him a deadly glare. "My name is Castiel," he grits out.

Arthur Ketch holds it. Dean can't figure it out if the bastard has balls or he's just stupid.

"And... No." Castiel finishes reluctantly. "But the truth can be..." He gives Dean a small nod, "Situational."

Dean nods back. He doesn't need Cas to tell him that they should not trust this man. But it is, actually, reassuring to know that they are on the same page.

"Oh." The man's face shifts in a sudden expression of dark amusement. "Oh, I do enjoy an angel!" He laughs.

The slightly hoarse, ugly sound and Ketch' hungry eyes, crawling up his angel's face, that’s what makes Dean’s anger finally burst out. “What are you saying, asshole?”

The british man's cold, mercury gaze sets down on the elder Winchester. "You really should know better." He coos. “Though I think there are more efficient ways to - how to say - handle your meat.”

Dean lowers his voice. “And how about you mind your own business, huh?”

“We have much to offer, Mr Winchester.” The edges of Ketch’ mouth curl up into a smirk. “Knowledge, technology. But.. “ He makes a pause. It's clearly meant to be dramatic. “I can’t say I’m not excited to play with _your_ toys.”

Castiel's hand lays on Dean's shoulder just a moment before it's too late. Perfect timing. As always.


	2. Inevitable

Word of the day: inevitable. 

Tag to 13x05  **Advanced Thanatology**

* * *

 

Castiel knows it's going to happen someday. It's inevitable. Like the _Judgment Day._ The one from Terminator movies. At least in the old ones it is. He hasn't seen the new one. Dean says they should stick to the classics.

Though he has always thought he'd be the one to break first. His self-control is wearing thin by every passing day he spends in the presence of Dean Winchester.

But then he dies. Again. And he comes back, of course.

But there's something different in the air between them this time, when they meet.

There's something different in the way Dean hugs him. His hand stays on Castiel's shoulder just for a moment longer. As if to be sure.

Later that night, on the Impala's back seat, he catches Dean's eyes on the rearview mirror. But Dean doesn't look away this time. He holds Cas' gaze and he smiles.

It's an early morning when they finally get home.

He has to tell the whole story. About the Empty and how he has to walk for hours to find a pay phone.

Everyone's tired.

Sam's exausted. Jack still needs to sleep, though he's half-angel. They both call it a night. Well, morning. And Castiel expects Dean to follow.

But then it happens.

Dean leans across the old, wooden kitchen table and kisses him.

There's no exploding stars and epic love confesions. Just a firm pressure of lips.

"Welcome home, Sunshine." Dean whispers against his mouth.


	3. Watch

Word of the day: watch

* * *

 

 

Dean wakes up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sight of Castiel, standing on the foot of the bed. He watches the Sun raising outside.

The angel is motionless. Almost like he's holding his breath. Perfectly still and perfectly naked.

Even though he can't see it, Dean doesn't need to imagine the expression of pure awe on his face. Eyes wide and lips parted slightly in a silent 'oh'. It's the same face Cas wore last night.

Dean can't help it but watch. Dark, mussed hair and broad, muscled shoulders. The man's eyes slide down over the curve of the angel's back. Dean bites his lips, remembering how Castiel arched for him the night before. He is gorgeous. From those wayward stands all the way down to his bare feet, he is quite something to watch.

"I thought you'd call it _'creepy'_ , " Castiel huffs a low laugh, without turning.

"I thought you were all for it, " Dean teased, his voice hoarse and heavy with sleep. He stands up with a growl. The air is cool, so he leans in, instinctively, towards Cas' warmth. And the smell of coffee. There are, in fact, not one but two steaming mugs on the desk. "Morning, sunshine," he says against angel's sun-kissed skin.

"I hope you slept well." Castiel stirs as Dean's arms curl around his chest.

"What is it?" The man places another kiss on his shoulder.

"I was prepared for this morning to be different. " The angel admits after a moment of hesitation.

"Different how? You thought I'd chicken out?" Dean bites the skin of Cas' neck and then kisses the spot, drawing from the angel a quiet sigh. "You really think so low of me, huh?"

"I thought it would be awkward for you, after..." He trails off.

The man shakes his head, "We are way past that, Cas."

Touching Castiel like this, after what was like years of foreplay, well... He finally feels content. And if he could watch Cas watching the sunrise every morning for the rest of his life, he could even say he's happy.

 

 


	4. Close calls

Words of the day: stupid, stubborn

* * *

 

What’s really fucked up in this situation is that - by this point - it’s considered normal. With their line of work, close calls are kinda part of the job.   
  
What’s different this time, though, is that Dean can’t seem to un-see the blade, pressed against Cas’ throat. Very human, very mortal Cas.   
  
They come back home in one piece, that’s what’s important, right? All four of them. One pain-in-the-ass of a brother, one nerdy half-angel boy, himself and, of course, Castiel. They spread around the bunker’s corridor in not so straight lines, silently, towards their rooms. To shower, probably. To rest. Not necessarily in that order.   
  
Dean stays behind. Sam gives him a nod and slips through the door. Jack follows. The kid took it hard tonight. Without him, they undoubtedly wouldn’t make it. So Dean is more than grateful. He makes a mental note to tell him. Tomorrow. Now he has more pressing matter.   
  
Castiel waits for him to catch up. His shoulders are slumped, he’s bloody and bruised and alive. Dean repeats that as his fingers curl hesitantly around the ex-angel’s upper arm. He’s alive. They all are and tonight it’s close to a miracle.   
  
“You okay?” It’s a stupid question, the man thinks at the same time the words leave his mouth.    
  
“Yes.” Castiel lies.   
  
It makes Dean feel angry. He tightens his grip, forcing Cas to look up to him. “What were you thinking, huh?”   
  
There is pain written all over Castiel’s face, but the stubborn son-of-a-bitch doesn’t make a sound.   
  
“Throwing yourself like this right into the fire is not an option anymore, Cas!” Dean bursts out.    
  
He doesn’t get an answer. Not from the former angel anyway. But he can hear Sam’s heavy steps on the other side of the door, getting closer.   
  
Next thing he knows is that he is half-dragging Castiel into the room he currently occupies. The former angel tenses under his fingers. Like he’s considering if he has to fight Dean or not.   
  
At the light of nothing else but the bedside lamp, space is comfortably narrowed. Castiel’s eyebrow arches up in defiance. The question is curled in his cobalt orbs: ‘What now?’   
  
Dean can see him flinch, though. His fingers are probably hitting a bruise, but the damn angel - ex-angel, or whatever -  just takes it. The thought of hurting Cas makes him sick so he lets go, reluctantly. He picks up the buttons of Castiel’s shirt instead. It’s one of Dean’s own, actually, since Sam’s shirts are way too big.    
  
“Plaids suits you.” The man rumbles, feeling his anger cooling down in favor of something else.   
  
"It's ruined," is the stupidest thing Castiel says since they got back home.   
  
Dean feels the pressing urge to laugh. It comes out almost hysterical. "You are concerned about the shirt? Really?"   
  
Castiel groans as the man slips the said shirt off his shoulders. Even with the light that is not merely enough, the bruise is clearly visible, red and angry down his arm.   
  
"Are there any more?" Dean grits out.   
  
The former angel shakes his head way too quickly for Dean's taste.   
  
"Truth, Cas. " Dean steps closer, invading Castiel's personal space. "Or I'll have to see for myself."   
  
Castiel leans against the closed door, arms spread in a silent challenge.   
  
"Fine." Dean tugs on the bottom of Cas' T-shirt, one hand slipping under it and over well-formed abdominal muscles.   
  
The quiet, little sound that Castiel makes at the contact rings all kinds of alarms in Dean's head. He ignores every last one of them. Easily. The skin under his palm is warm. It feels so human that it’s unreal. Like he is expecting Castiel to be carved in stone or something.   
  
But he isn’t, so Dean’s hand travels up, on his chest, watching closely for any kind of reaction. He doesn’t get the one he thinks he would but probably the one he hopes for. Cas’ back arches away from the flat wooden surface and he presses up against Dean’s palm, that’s hovering over his heartbeat.   
  
Dean’s own heart tries to catch up, matching the frantic rhythm of the one underneath his fingers.    
  
He lifts the T-shirt up and over Cas’ head. The former angel frowns for a moment but does not complain about the sudden movement of his bruised arm.   
  
With his eyes already adjusting to the dim light, Dean can see him better now. He doesn’t mean to thank Chuck for that, he really doesn’t. But the thought crosses his mind out of nowhere at the sight of Castiel’s broad, naked chest. He chases it away, remembering his initial task.   
  
_ Check the stubborn angel for any more injuries. Not an angel, _ he corrects himself,  _ but yeah, definitely stubborn. _


	5. Breaking point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But he breaks. Even more, he crumbles, finally falling apart like he never did before.

“Did Jack bring you back with just a half of your brain, huh?” Dean almost yells at him, “You were dead. I buried you. I…”

 Dean’s voice breaks. And the rest of him threatens to follow shortly. Like he’s the only thing standing at his spot while the room and everything else keeps spinning around. It makes him feel sick. It makes him wanna run.

 Castiel stares.

 Sky-blue, ocean-deep eyes, not blinking, with a silent question hidden just under the surface.

 Dean feels naked. Exposed. Scared. All those things at once. It takes all of his self-control not to look away.

 He can tell the exact moment when the clarification hits Castiel.  It’s almost like his face lightens up with understanding. He tilts his head; his lips are half-parted in wonder.

 “You love me.” The angel says slowly. “Real or not real?”

 Dean can swear that he hears his own hysterical laughter.

 “I thought I shouldn’t let Sammy show you The Hunger Games.” He forces a smile.

Castiel waits.

 Dean licks his dried lips. “It doesn’t matter, Cas, “he breathes out. “You and me, this... It just...” His voice betrays him again, quivering. “It won’t work. We are too different, “he finishes in one breath. It is the stupidest reason possible. And Dean expects Cas to tell him just this. He definitely does not expect what comes next.

 “Yes. “ Castiel nods his agreement. “We are quite opposite actually.”

 Dean opens his mouth to say something. But he just doesn’t know what. So he bites his bottom lip, trying to concentrate on something else, something different from his friend, now standing on an arm’s length. This is Cas’ way to give him space, Dean realizes. The angel is close enough to show him what he wants. But he leaves the man with the choice to make or not the final step.

 Dean’s fingers twitch. His hand hangs in the air, half-way from Cas’ face.

 Castiel waits. Patiently. He waits for Dean to process this. He’s just there, real, solid. Dean wants to touch him. He wants it badly.

 So, now Dean still doesn’t know where exactly his breaking point is. Maybe it's the tension that almost physically hurts his senses and makes him feel dizzy. Or it’s Castiel's eyes, staring at him so openly, wide and honest. But he breaks. Even more, he crumbles, finally falling apart like he never did before.

 “Real.” He says.

 “Good. “ Cas smiles softly. “I thought I lost my mind..”

  _I thought I lost you_ , is what Dean does not say. He doesn’t need to.

 Crossing those final inches now is the easiest thing Dean Winchester has ever done. He doesn’t even stop to marvel how his fingers fit so perfectly in Cas’ hair. His other hand grabs a fistful of Cas’ shirt as he pulls him closer. He can feel Cas’ heart drumming against his chest as their mouth meet. It’s slow and careful, coffee flavored kiss.

 Dean tries to remember every detail. The way Cas’ lips are pushing against his own. What he smells like. What he feels like. The kiss lasts just a few seconds.

 Dean pulls away, breathless, still keeping the angel close, fingers scratching lightly on the back of Cas’ neck. He brings their foreheads together and whispers, _“It's real.”_

 

 


End file.
